


Alone Together

by supreme_genius



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Cheating, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Spoilers, Spoilers s3e03
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supreme_genius/pseuds/supreme_genius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to cope with how fast her relationship with Monroe is going, Rosalee turns to Nick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Road to Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Grimm or make any money from this.  
> This is unbeta'd.  
> Title is from the Fall Out Boy song of the same name.

She ran her fingers over the intricately carved wood that framed the antique mirror. It made her feel sad, like she was tainting the beauty with the oils of her skin. Looking away from the wood, she caught sight of her reflection, barely able to recognize herself. The guilt and sadness were written in the wrinkles that marred her face.

_I’m not all that sure that I’m in love with Monroe, but I know I certainly care about him and don’t want to hurt him. At first I had thought that he would be good for me. He had a past he wasn’t proud of and so did I. He understood that and never pressured me to tell him about it. But maybe he should have. When you date someone, you should want to get to know them completely, even the dark places they keep hidden away._

_That’s what Nick did. It was slow, never forced. He had this way of getting me to open up, to bare my soul, while making me feel safe and comfortable, like we’ve known each other our entire lives. Since we met, Nick has been a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, and a source of support. I could easily say that he was my best friend._

Her hand dropped away from the mirror as she walked down the hall and into the kitchen. She hoped another beer would drown out Monroe’s voice inside her head. Monroe has asked her to move in with him and said _I love you_. Rosalee panicked. She was nervous, of course. How could she not be? She wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.

She had lived with people before and never liked it. Nothing ever felt like home to her. When she lived at home, it was her parents’ house. She had moved in with two other boyfriends, into their places. Neither of them were home; just a place to sleep. Now she was living in her late brother’s apartment. She knew that if she were to move into Monroe’s house, it would always feel like _his_ place.

Rosalee had tried to explain it to him, but he didn’t understand. She couldn’t help but wonder if he didn’t even _want_ to understand. She knew he was set on them starting a life together and planning a future. She thought she was, too. But when she was sitting in that restaurant, looking across the table at a man who was so head-over-heels in love, she knew that it wasn’t right. She knew she had to hurt Monroe now rather than lead him on.

Monroe had looked so hurt, so broken, and she couldn’t stand to look at him. With tears in her eyes, she stood up and left the table, running away to the outside world. She just kept on walking until she reached her safe haven. Rosalee knocked on the door and slipped off the high heels that were causing her feet so much pain.

The door opened and Nick let her in. She made a b-line for the sofa and propped up her feet. He shook his head and said something about never being able to understand why women go through such lengths to look good. He retrieved two beers from the fridge and joined Rosalee on the sofa, handing her one of the bottles.

“You want to talk?”

Rosalee shrugs as she takes a sip from the bottle. “Not really. Could we just watch the game?”

“Of course.”

They only got about five minutes into the game before Rosalee’s eyes drifted away from the screen, staring at an indistinct spot on the wall. She downed the rest of her beer, sighed, and leaned her head back against the sofa. Nick muted the television and turned towards Rosalee.

“What’s wrong?”

“Monroe asked me to move in with him and then proceeded to tell me that he loves me.”

“Oh, wow. Wait…oh god, Rosalee…you didn’t say it back, did you?”

She shook her head. “I thought I wanted that – to have a future with him – but when he said it, it didn’t feel right. I felt pressured. I tried to explain it to him, but the look on his face…he was so hurt. I couldn’t look at him…I just ran away.” _I ran to you_.

Nick’s lips bend into a frown. Monroe and Rosalee always seemed happy when he saw them together. He had to admit, though, it seemed too soon for Monroe to ask Rosalee to move in. They had only been together a few months. He starts to wonder if Monroe would have asked sooner had he not had Nick living with him for a bit.

“Come here.” Nick extended his arm to let Rosalee curl up against his side. He held her as she hid her face in the crook of his neck.

It hadn’t taken them long to grow into close friends. Rosalee’s initial reluctance upon their first meeting had quickly faded as they spent more and more time together. Nick was intrigued by the spice shop. Even though he didn’t have much free time, he did like to spend some of it in the shop, listening to Rosalee ramble about different herbs.

Nick knew he felt something for Rosalee. He didn’t know what it was and wouldn’t let himself think about it enough to figure it out. She was one of his best friends and was dating another one of his best friends. He couldn’t have feelings for her. But the more time he spent with her, the more she came over and curled up on the sofa with him, the more he noticed how comfortable she was with him, the harder it became to hide any and all feelings.

Now here they were, curled up on the sofa together, her breath on his neck, his arm around her body. She tilted her head up to look at him. When Nick looked back at her, he knew he was doomed. He found himself leaning forward until their lips met. He had expected her to pull away, but she kissed back with surprising fervor.

Rosalee moved closer, straddling Nick’s lap, her dress bunched up around her hips. Nick’s hands slid up her back and tangled in her hair. They kissed until they couldn’t breathe and pulled away panting. Briefly, Rosalee considered what this meant. But then Nick’s lips were on her neck and all coherent thought was slipping away. She just knew she wanted more, she wanted him. Right now.

Her hands slid down his chest and tugged at the hem of his shirt. He let her pull it off and she tossed it aside. Then her hands went to work on loosening his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Nick started pushing up the fabric of her skirt and soon it joined his shirt on the floor. She rocked her hips against his and moaned into their kiss.

He pulled away and looked up her. “Rosalee,” he said in a breathy voice.

“Please, Nick.”

Nick had never seen Rosalee so needy, so desperate. He knew this was wrong, knew people were going to get hurt. But he was so tired of hiding, of pretending. He wanted to be selfish and not care. So, with his arms tightly wrapped around Rosalee’s waist, he carried her upstairs and laid her on the bed; the bed he’d shared with someone else for almost four years; someone else who was out with her friends, having a good time. Here he was with another man’s girlfriend; another man who happened to be his best friend.

Until now, Nick had been a pretty decent friend and boyfriend. But he was throwing it all away. He knew it. Rosalee knew it, too. Because she was throwing away the same relationships. She was throwing away the last few months with Monroe, her new friendship with Juliette. For what? One night with a friend that she may or may not have been in love with? She knew she was crazy, knew she might regret this. But there was no going back now.

Nick slipped his hand beneath Rosalee and unhooked her bra, ridding her of the lacey lingerie that he was never meant to see. His hands caressed her chest as his mouth tasted the skin of a woman who was never meant to lie beneath him. She raised her hips as much as she could, begging for more friction.

Rosalee had never been much for foreplay. Then again, she had never been all that interested in the majority of her partners, nor had she been all that sober. But the way Nick touched her, caressed her, kissed her, had her wanting it to last forever. Nick’s hands weren’t all that big, they didn’t meticulously work on the tiny, intricate pieces of clocks. But he knew how to use them. He was equally talented with his tongue.

She wrapped her legs around him as he began rocking his hips against her, working towards a steady rhythm that worked for both of them. It wasn’t frantic or rushed, though it wasn’t quite _love making_. Rosalee wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close for a kiss. Then Nick rolled his hips and Rosalee was slamming her eyes shut and scraping her nails down his back. Nick fisted his hands in the sheet on either side of her as his hips lost their rhythm, thrusts becoming sporadic. Rosalee cried out as her back arched, orgasm hitting her harder than it had in a long time. Nick soon followed, hiding his face in the crook of her neck to stifle his moans.

They laid in bed, limbs tangled together, stealing kisses. Neither of them said anything for a long while. Rosalee just laid her head on Nick’s chest and listened to his heart. A small part of her wanted to cry, wanted to feel guilty, wanted to hate Nick for going along with this, for making her love him. But the bigger part of her was more concerned with the circles he was tracing on her back, with the sound of his heart, with what could have been if they had met in another time or place. That was the part of her that she knew she was going to hate in the morning. That was the part of her that she thought she left behind when she cleaned up her act. But she could hate herself in the morning. Right now she just wanted to stay lost in the world of pillows and blankets she had built with Nick.


	2. Do You Got Room for One More Troubled Soul?

It was just after two in the morning when Juliette stumbled through the door, more than a little inebriated. As she entered the house, she turned and waved at her friend, who sat waiting in her car making sure Juliette got in alright. The car pulled away from the curb and disappeared down the road.

Juliette used the wall for support, slowly but surely making her way to the stairs. If she had been sober, she might have noticed the clothes lying on the living room floor. But right now she was more concerned with getting out of her dress and into bed. She made it up the stairs without incident, and then made her way down the hall and to the bedroom. What she saw was more than enough to sober her up a bit.

Nick was lying in bed, arms wrapped around another woman. Juliette tried to focus her eyes, hoping the alcohol coursing through her was making her see things. Nick made little sleepy noises and snuggled closer to the woman whose head was tucked in the crook of his neck.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe Juliette was just at the end of her rope. She flipped the light switch and became more than disgusted at what she saw.

“How dare you!” She screamed, not caring who heard her.

Nick and Rosalee jumped, violently pulled from their slumber. Panicked looks covered their faces as they did their best to cover themselves with the sheets; sheets that Juliette had picked out. Rosalee jumped out of the bed, backing up until she hit the wall, unsure of what to say or do.

Juliette stepped into the room, looking at the two of them. Her attention focused on Rosalee; her eyes like daggers. She took another step forward, her hands clenched into fists. Nick shifted in the bed, closer to Rosalee. As Juliette approached, Nick got up and stood next to Rosalee. Juliette raised her hand, unsure if she actually had it in her to hit Rosalee or not, but willing to find out. Rosalee had been her friend, a shoulder to cry on.

Nick took a step to the side, standing in front of Rosalee, protecting her. If Juliette was going to hit someone, he wasn’t going to let it be Rosalee. He’d take it; he deserved it. No one said anything and the silence became painful, deafening. Juliette opened her mouth, wanting to scream and shout and curse them both to hell, but nothing came out. Her hand fell to her side as she backed up and ran out.

 _Say something, anything_. Nick looked down at the ground and sighed. He couldn’t deny it, couldn’t justify it. He knew what he did was unforgiveable and he wasn’t going to make Juliette any more of a fool by trying to excuse his actions.

“I fucked up,” Nick said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

Rosalee knew she shouldn’t, but she reached out to him, laying her hand on his shoulder. Surprisingly, Nick leaned into her touch. She took a half step forward and leaned against him, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

Juliette ran right out the front down and down the block. She managed to get three blocks before she stopped, unsure what to do or where to go. She couldn’t call her friends; she had just been bragging about how well things had been going with Nick. There was only one person she had left, only one person who might understand what she was going through. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and called a cab.

It was late – well, really early – and she felt bad about waking him up, but she needed him. She pounded on the door loudly enough so he could hear her. Monroe grumbled on his way to the door, but still managed a smile when he saw her. His smile faded when she stepped into the house and proceeded to throw herself at him.

Juliette grabbed him roughly and pulled him down for a kiss. He did his best to gently push her away. She smacked his chest; he took it.

“Juliette…what’s…what are you doing?” Monroe eyes were wide, practically bulging from his face.

“Kissing you.” She fisted her hands in his shirts and tried to pull him down for another kiss, but he leaned away, his hands on her forearms. “Damn it, Monroe.”

“Juliette.” She didn’t respond, just twisted her hands in his shirt more. Her jaw was clenched, eyes slammed shut; Monroe knew she was trying not to cry. “Juliette…Jules…”

Through all the recent hardships with Nick, Monroe had gotten pretty close to Juliette. She went to Monroe for help, for advice, knowing that he was the only one Nick really talked to. Juliette considered Monroe a dear friend and Monroe felt the same. Somewhere along the line he started calling her _Jules_ and it seemed to always comfort her.

“Nick…and, and…they were in bed…” The tears flowed down her cheeks as her chest heaved, lungs trying to suck in air through her sobs.

“Wait, what? Nick and who? Jules, what happened?” He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. When Juliette calmed down, he led her over to the sofa.

“I was out with a few friends. Stacey dropped me off at home. I went upstairs and…and I saw Nick in bed with someone else. When I turned on the light, it was…”

Monroe’s brows furrowed. “Who was it?”

Juliette looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him, not after all he had done for her lately. But this wasn’t something she could keep from him because she would want him to tell her if the roles were reversed. She whispered, barely audible, “Rosalee.”

At first, Monroe didn’t want to believe it. Juliette had been drinking and maybe she just _thought_ it was Rosalee. He didn’t want to believe that either one of them would do this to him. His face grew hardened and his eyes became red. It was all he could do not to woge and charge over there and rip Nick apart like a real blutbad would have. But he just sat there, silent. A few tears slipped down his cheek and he felt Juliette grab his hands, holding them.

“Monroe…I-I’m sorry.”

Monroe shook his head, trying to muster up some words. “It’s not your fault.”

He now understood why Juliette threw herself at him, trying so desperately to kiss him. And now there was a part – a spiteful, angry part – of him that wanted to kiss her back, wanted a whole lot more than that, wanted as much as she’d give him. That part wanted to hurt Nick, wanted to hurt Rosalee. Wanted to do to them exactly what they had done to him. But the other part of him still had some sense. _An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind_.

“Can I…stay here, tonight? On the sofa?”

“I can’t let you sleep on the sofa, Jules. Let me just go grab some sheets and I’ll make up the guest room for you.” Monroe stood but didn’t step away; part of him was still in shock, moving only on autopilot.

Juliette stood and wrapped her arms around Monroe, hugging tightly, refusing to let go for what seemed like hours. But eventually the two parted, and Monroe went off in search of some clean sheets. He grabbed a red, flannel set and set up the guest room. Monroe returned downstairs to show Juliette to the room.

“I _am_ sorry, Monroe.”

“Me, too. But like I said. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Monroe reached out to her, gently squeezing her shoulder. He kissed the top of her head before retreating to his own room.


End file.
